


Our Dark Paradise

by Nym_the_Trans_Nympho



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Babies, Bestiality, Breeding, Choking, Cousin Incest, Daenerys Critical, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Dark Jon Snow, Dark Sansa Stark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Dragons, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Future king of the seven kingdoms Jon Snow, Impregnation, Jon Snow is King in the North, King Jon Snow, Marathon Sex, Past Ramsay Bolton/Sansa Stark, Past Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Queen Sansa Stark, R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Jon Snow's Parents, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Ramsay gets fucked by his hounds and then they eat him, Rape, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rickon Stark Lives, Rough Sex, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Shameless Smut, Somnophilia, but she is no hero or savior, direwolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nym_the_Trans_Nympho/pseuds/Nym_the_Trans_Nympho
Summary: The night Sansa arrives at the Wall Jon rapes her. But Sansa doesn't completely hate it.Both have been altered, soul-deep. Jon from his death and resurrection and Sansa from her time with Ramsay.Jon confesses he's always lusted for Sansa and that in his death, he learned that his mother was Lyanna Stark and his father Rhaegar. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree when he decides to take Sansa by force.The two in all their depravity, their twisted torments, their horrible ordeals, realize they are meant for each other. The gods and the world saw fit to transform them so that they complete each other in ways they never would have before.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Meera Reed/Bran Stark, Rickon Stark & Sansa Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	Our Dark Paradise

He was crying. She was the one being raped, and he was the one crying. It was almost enough to make her laugh as he thrust his cock in and out of her wet cunt while he helped her slip wrists in one hand over her head. The front of her dress was ripped, and her corset was pulled down enough so that her breasts spilled out, her nipples hardening from the chill in the room and her assailant's attention to them. He had suckled at her breast for minutes like a new born babe. His lips and teeth were far more gentle than Ramsay ever was. He teased her in a way that was meant to bring her pleasure not torture. Had even made sure to get her slick before forcing her legs apart and shoving his cock into her.

She didn’t understand it. Why he was doing what he was doing to her. Was this really about forgiving her? About making right the wrong of their childhood relationship? She had asked him to forgive her, and he said he would, for a kiss. It was a silly, innocent request. She had kissed Robb and her father on the cheek a hundred times as a girl. But Jon hadn’t meant a kiss on the cheek, no, when she leaned in he turned and pressed his mouth to her, devouring her as he put an arm around her waist, lifting her up, guiding her to the bed and forcing her down on it.

It was sick, and wrong. He was her brother. She should feel more disgusted by what he was doing to her. More so then when Petyr dared to take liberties with her, or when Ramsay played with her body, hurting her in ways she had never imagined physically possible. Maybe it was because Ramsay had conditioned her body to respond to pain, to be pliant to his wants that she couldn’t bring herself to fight back against Jon harder.

Sansa had learned long ago how to go into herself, to leave her body and soar the sky as a bird, or prowl the forests as a wolf, or fox, but with Jon she was completely present. She let herself feel everything, to be in the moment.

  
There was something horribly beautiful in him taking her, something so wicked, and sinful that made her spine tingle. Was this part because of Cersei? Had she somehow been infected by that women depravities in the time she had been near her? Why else would Jon’s body on top of her own feel so natural, so right to her. It felt more like an embrace than an invasion. And when she looked at Jon, looked into those tearful gray eyes, she knew this wasn’t about forgiving her, getting revenge on her indifference toward him as a child. Something had broken inside of him, just like it had been broken inside of her. He had lost control and was afraid.

  
“Oh, Jon.” she sighed, pitying and sympathetic, “What happened to you?”

  
She didn’t expect an answer and yet she received a response nonetheless.

  
“I’m a monster,” he told her, bowing his head to kiss the scars over her breasts and chest, bite marks and cuts left behind from Ramsay. “No better than the one who left these, but I can’t stop. I just---”

  
Sansa lifted her arse, rolling her hips gently up into Jon’s pelvis. “Shh, then don’t. It’s alright, Jon. I understand.”

She didn’t know if she truly did understand fully. What she did know was that this wasn’t entirely unpleasant, that Jon cared about her despite this violation, that he was in pain and so was she and all either wanted was some comfort. “Let my hands go, Jon, I won't fight you.”

  
Jon gave a sob, his fingers flexing even tighter around her wrists for a brief second before he let go of his hold completely, his hand now pressed to the bed beside her head. He gave a choke, a sob, collapsing on top of her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders and back while still shallowly pumping into her, his tears wetting her shoulder felt like they might singe her with their intense heat.

“I’m so sorry. There’s something wrong with me, I’m sick, Sans!” He cried harder, shaking, his hips finally stilling. “They killed me. I actually died, Sansa. Then that woman brought be back, but I didn’t come back the same. I---”

  
She ran her fingers up the length of his spine and through his hair, soothing him like she would Robyn when he was coming down from one of his tantrums. She kissed his temple and told him it was alright as he continued to poor his soul, or what was left of it, out to her.

“There was always something wrong about me, I just blamed my bastard blood and tried to keep my distance from you when I realized what it was I was feeling toward you. Lust,” he was hiccuping now and he felt so small in her arms. She tucked him closer to her breast rather than pushing him away at his confession.

“It was wrong, I knew it was wrong. But then, I came back to life and I just...I don’t care anymore!” he gripped her tight, nipped and kissed her neck. “It was like all the strings of my morality, my restraint, have been cut and I’m left free of everything that had once been holding me back.”

One of his hands had found a breast again, and it rested perfectly in his palm as he rolled a finger over her hardened nipple, plucking and teasing at it. He teased circles around the pebble of her nipple and she found her back arching into his touch. He rolled his hips, sinking deeper into her, her belly fluttering as she took in the feeling of fullness.

“But, it’s not as wrong as you think,” he said, lifting his face, looking her in his eyes. “When I died, I saw everything.”

  
Sansa furrowed her brows. “The heavens? Hell?”

A sad smile tugged at his lips. “No. I saw my mother. I saw my very conception.”

He kissed her then, long and deep, and then pulled back to simply touch their foreheads. “I’m not your brother. I’m your cousin, the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar. He raped my mother and now I’ve proven just how much I’m my father's son.”

  
He gave a hollow laugh, a horribly dark, ruined sound. “I’m a rapist, just like him.”

Gathering all her strength, Sansa gripped her thighs about Jon’s hips and rolled them so Jon was on his back and Sansa was atop him, straddling him. Her palms pressed over the raised skin of where he had been stabbed by his men.

  
“Maybe,” she said as she lifted herself up then dropped back down on Jon’s cock, repeating the motion. “Maybe you are just a lustful, greedy, bastard son of a dragon, taking what he wants when he wants. Raping highborn girls just like him,”

Something had snapped inside Sansa. Something wicked and cruel had taken over her. She wanted to let go like Jon, cut her strings, to throw all her sensibilities and cares out the window.

“Will you put a bastard in me too?” her tongue wetting her lips, her hands coming to roam over the flat expanse of her belly under her dress. Jon looked ashamed and hurt by the question, maybe even a little angry.

“No! No, never!” he said as she looked down at him while ripping the rest of her gown off her shoulders, reaching back next to loosen the laces of her bodice.

“Why not? You said it yourself you are your fathers' son,” she asked him. Breathing easier when she slipped the corset from around her abdomen.

  
She swiveled her hips and clenched her cunt around him, strangling his cock. “Maybe, I want it. Maybe I don’t mind you raping me. Maybe I’m used to it. Maybe I like it.”

She hissed as she trailed a finger down to where they were joined, playing with that hard nub at the top of her folds that Ramsay had liked to pinch as hard as he could. And it hadn’t hurt when Jon had teased it with his thumb earlier. Not, skating her fingers over it, it made her jerk with pleasure.

Jon took her wrists, stopping her from touching herself. “You don’t mean that. You don’t know what you are saying.”

  
Sansa rolled her hips, smiling when Jon groaned.

“I do, Jon.” she said sadly. “I have been raped and beaten, I have known the pleasure in the pain, I have been warped like hot steal. I’m changed now too, Jon.” and a few tears rolled down her cheeks at the admission, the acceptance.

“They’ve made me their creature. I can’t return to the girl I once was. This is all I know now. To be forced, to be owned. I don’t know how to enjoy the thought of romance, of sweet and soft touched anymore.” she sobbed, feeling pathetic, dirty, and confused. “This is all I know how to do, this is the only way I can feel good anymore, I think,”

“We’re too broken to ever be fixed. This is us now. Let's make the best of it, let's use it, and take our pleasure where we can. I really don’t mind, Jon. Not when it’s you.” she bent forward, Jon still holding her wrists. Her breasts were flushed with Jon’s hot chest, her soft breath ghosting his lips, her eyes locked with his.

  
“It’s ok, Jon. Don’t hold yourself back now, just let go. Take me, Jon. Love me, Jon. We’re all that’s left now. Please, please--”

He let her wrists go, he took fistfuls of her sizzling red hair, and forced her face down, smashing their lips together in a clack of teeth and clash of tongues. He conquered her mouth, plundering it for all it’s worth as she began to ride him hard and fast. When he dared to let her go she threw her head back and Jon took one of her delicious tits into his mouth, holding her around the waist, face firmly planted against her breast as he suckled. He teased her nipple with tongue and teeth, making her writhe in the pleasure of her sensitive breasts. He went from one tit to the other before letting go completely to watch her saliva glistening breasts bounce, her neck flushed.

“Come on, cousin, fuck me.” Sansa cried, begging him, tears pouring from her eyes in frightening desperation. “Breed me! Make us whole! Rebuild the pack with me, please, Jon”

“Yes, gods, yes, anything for you, Sansa. I’ll give you all my seed, give you a dozen children if that’s what you want. Direwolf and dragon pups both.” he swore and Sansa grabbed Jon by the shoulders, pulling his top half off the bed to claim his mouth, to pepper his faces with kisses and mark his neck with kiss bruises and bites.

“You belong to me now, I’ll never let you go now that I have you,” he promised her. “I’ll rape this sweet cunt of yours over and over tonight, and the day after, and the day after. ”  
Sansa nodded, hips jerking, her spine-tingling. She understood that she knew how to take pleasure from that but with Jon she could show it, she could let herself fall into the pleasure she had learned to take from the pain, from being dominated.

  
“But not always, Sansa. I’ll teach you what it likes to be worshiped, to be adored and loved. I’ll help you learn how good it can be when I’m gentle too, and so much more” a tear fell from the corner of his eye and Sansa wiped it away.

  
“Alright, Jon. Just be patient with me until then,” she asked and gave him a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

Sansa started to rock herself on Jon’s cock and rode him like a madwoman, chasing her pleasure in a gallop. Jon helped her, taking hold of her hips and guiding her up and down his cock. She felt incredible, every nerve of her body was alive, her skin felt on fire and she could barely breathe as her heart threatened to burst from her chest as she chased this ecstasy. Jon’s hands caressed her in every sensitive place as if he knew her body better than she did.

He kissed her neck, her breasts, tickled her ribs, played with the V of her hips and down to her cunt, thumb rubbing circles around her rosebud. He got her on her back again, her legs pushed up to her chest, her knees hooked on his shoulders as he drove into her. His pelvis was grinding against that bud of pleasure, the dark coarse hairs around his cock tickling and teasing it as he sank all the way into her. He kept hammering into her without mercy until she reached her first, gratifying orgasm. She screamed and Jon shot out a hand like the strike of a viper. Strong fingers wrapped around her pale throat, gripping it hard enough to choke her scream and silence her. She gasped, scratching at his hand when she couldn’t breathe and she shuddered from the aftershocks of her orgasm, eyes rolling into the back of her head as if she was possessed. She saw white as Jon filled her with his seed.

“Your mine now, so take it you bitch! Take it all!” Jon growled, hips giving short, quick stuttering thrusts up through his own orgasm. Jon had gone feral, wild and crazed like an animal in it’s heat only caring about mating and his planting his see his fertile soil.

“Get pregnant, get pregnant, get pregnant!” Jon roared in her face.

  
Sansa couldn’t even think, her head had gone light, her oxygen cut off. Everything felt so good, so right and she smiled, a line of drool falling trailing down one corner of her mouth as she lost consciousness. When she came too again, Jon had resumed fucking her but now Sansa was on her knees. Facedown and to the side in a pillow and her ass to the sky. The best creaked as Jon fucked into her. She wasn’t sure if he realized she was awake or if he was talking to himself.

  
“Fuck, finally after all this time I can do what I want to you!” He groaned. “You have no idea how often I would fist my cock thinking of you, of your red hair splayed around you like a fiery halo, your moon pale tits arching toward me, your tight little cunt dripping for me, and my name on your lips.”

  
“Jon,” she moaned.

“Yeah, just like that. I wanted to rip off your pretty little dresses, take you against a wall or on the Godswood floor, hold you down, feel you around my cock.” he was ranting, babbling now how he had imagined going as far as taking her arse, so that way she could still have her maidenhead. How he contemplated putting a sack over her head so she couldn’t see him, know that it was him.

“Your mother was right about me, that I would grow up to be a lustful degenerate like so many bastards were. I hated her, if I hadn’t wanted to prove her wrong so much I would have fucked you back them, raped you, and relished in her tears of shame and embarrassment at her perfect daughter having been arse raped by some unknown scoundrel.”

His words were filthy, sick and god Sansa hated the part of her that liked hearing it all. Hearing how he wanted her back then, about the things he had wanted to do to her. It wouldn’t have been her fault of course if he had. Sansa hadn’t known and she certainly had done nothing to encourage those thoughts.

  
Sansa gasped when Jon took her by her hair, then let out a little shriek from the pain of it as he pulled her upright, back fleshed to his chest now. He took her breasts in his hands, groping and massaging the mounds of her soft tits. He kissed and sucked at her neck as he filled her up with his cock, she was so messy and wet down their with both her own juices and his seed.

How long had she been out, had he cum in her again in the time before she woke up. Why else was she dripping so much?

Sansa turned her head, a hand rising to take a hold in Jon’s hair, pulling his face to hers so she could kiss him. It was hot and messy, teeth clashing, tongues wrestling, the combination of their saliva glossing her lips. She moaned into his mouth as he ran his tongue over her teeth, licking into her mouth like dogs might while he pinched and rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger while Sansa began to rock back on Jon’s cock.

“So needy,” he breathed against her cheek. “Who knew prude little Sansa would be so wanton.”

  
He slid a hand down and played in her wet folds. “Your soaked for me, sweet girl.”

Sansa felt herself blush and Jon noticed.

  
“Don’t start feeling shy and ashamed now, sweetling. I understand, I love you!”

Sansa felt her wall clench and she was cumming again. Just at the confession of love. It was horrible but it made her feel so good to hear it from someone she believed meant it, who had laid out all of his sinful desires and thoughts for her out on the table, instead of manipulating her, playing with her. Not like Petyr. And unlike Ramsay, even when Jon was raping her, he cared about her, tried to give her pleasure for the sake of pleasure, and not to humiliate her. It was twisted, unhealthy and wrong but Sansa didn’t care. It was the best either would ever have in a relationship again and neither wanted it to be different. They were enough for each other as is, they completed and filled the gaps that were missing from themselves after the horrible things that they had gone through. Chunks torn from their bodies and souls, leaving empty spaces. But Jon filled those spaces for Sansa, made her feel safe and loved even when he was holding her down against her will, manhandling her body. And Jon, she looked at him and she saw in his eyes that she filled his empty spaces too, completed him, made him feel like a man like he was human again after his resurrection.

She and Jon’s stamina seemed endless as they went on like this through the night, into the morning. The fire in the hearth had died, sunlight was starting to stream into the room by the means of the one window. Sansa felt boneless as Jon filled her for the umpteenth time with his side, demanding his seed to take, for Sansa to get with child. She could see he was getting exhausted too. There was a knock on the door.

“My lady?” It was Brienne.

  
“Yes?” Sansa said, her voice hoarse.

  
“Are you alright, I went to the room that was made up for you so that I could take you to break your fast. But you weren’t there and I was told you never left the Lord Commanders' chambers last night. Is the Lord Commander still with you?” her voice was laced with concern. And possibly suspicious. Sansa nor Jon had exactly been the quietest through the night. A part of Sansa didn’t care very much if Brienne or the whole wall had heard her moans and screams last night. Let them know, soon she and Jon would tell everyone themselves.

Sansa cleared her throat but Jon had a wicked grin, angled himself so he brushed that sensitive spot inside her that made her see stars. She gasped.

“My Lady?” the door shook a little as Brienne tried for the handle.

  
“I’m sorry Brienne. Sansa fell asleep while catching up with me, I decided to just let me sleep in my chamber last night.”

  
“Is lady Sansa injured, I heard a noise?” she asked Jon, sounding on guard.

  
Sansa was holding a hand over her mouth now, trying to keep silent.

  
“She’s fine. She has a leg cramp from riding so long and hard yesterday,” he winked at her and Sansa wanted to slap him.

  
“Does she need a maester?” Brienne asked.

  
“N-No, I’m fine Brienne. If I could have a bath, that would certainly help though,” Sansa managed to say.

“My man, Satin Flowers. He’s in the room next to mine, ask him to get a bath for your lady and fetch a dress from Lady Melissandre for Sansa.” Sansa's eyes were wide as Jon spoke while flipping her onto her side, straddling one of her legs while the other was up in the air, calf resting on his shoulder. How on earth he manages to speak and position her like he was chatting about the weather and not balls deep inside her while he moved her about was incredible.

  
“Hmm, alright. I’ll be right back.” they could hear her heavy footsteps walking away and Jon whispered for Sansa to be quiet as they finished their last round. Sansa was practically gushing with their combined cum after they were done. She tried to clench up and keep as much as she could inside of her. The bath would be disgusting when she was done if she couldn’t at least keep half of it it.

  
Looking down, she swore she looked bloated. But that wasn’t possible.

  
Jon helped her dress back into the clothes she arrived in yesterday and put a cloak over her, to hide the tears he made in it for her modesty. Once she gave him the ok to do so, he unbarred his chamber door and they waited for Satin and Brienne to come with Sansa’s bath. Meanwhile, Jon got the fire roaring again and sat close to her, rubbing her shoulders and holding her close like lovers might, kissing her temple.

“What will we do now?” he asked Sansa.

“We need to tell people who you are, I don’t want to sneak around with you, I want to stand proudly at your side.” she told him, looking lovingly up into those frosty gray eyes.

Jon nodded. “Ok. I think Lady Melissandre and Davos would believe me, and I know of someone who could confirm it. The man who survived the fight at the tower of joy with fa-with your father, he knows the truth about me. Howland Reed,”

  
Sansa nodded, that made sense. “We’ll write to him, ask him to come North. His support could mean a great deal in taking back Winterfell,”

  
Jon gawked. “Take back Wintefell?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Why did you think I came back and married Ramsay. It wasn’t because I loved him.” she scoffed

“It was part of a plan to reclaim Winterfell in my name,” she explained.

  
Sansa looked away. Embarrassed. “But I was stupid. It was Petyr’s idea, he made me believe I could do it but he left me with that monster before I could ask him what I was supposed to actually do once I was married to Ramsay. How I was supposed to get my revenge for Robb and my mother and take back Winterfell,”

  
“No, you aren’t stupid. You felt desperate, you wanted to go home. I understand,” he held her close again and Sansa relaxed in his arms. “but Sansa, it’s not possible. We have no army, Stannis is gone, what’s left of his men captured or scattered in the North to be picked off.”

  
He shook her head and Sansa felt anger rush through her. She stood, putting space between her and Jon.

“Everything that monster did to me, I endured it all, because I kept hope I would find an opening, learn something important that I could use to destroy them and take our home back. But Ramsay was smart, he figured out my attempts to signal for help, he killed those who showed me loyalty and tried to help me. I realized I couldn’t do it alone anymore. I wouldn’t be able to win from the inside like Petyr alluded I could.” she shook her head, frustrated. But she hadn’t given up, not yet. They could still win. She had to believe everything she suffered, Joffrey, Petyr, Ramsay wasn’t for nothing.

  
“But I haven’t given up.” she told him, chest tight, her hands clenched.

“Sansa, I’m so tired of fighting. Fighting is all I’ve done since I left home. I’ve killed brothers of the Night Watch, I’ve killed wildings, I’ve killed men that I admired. I hanged a _boy_ younger than Bran _!_ ” he stood too now, facing her. He started to deflate, a weight landing on his chest, holding him down.“I fought, and I lost.”

Sansa softened. She considered Jon and everything he was feeling, everything that he had gone through.

“I’ve fought too, Jon,” she said. “It might not have been the way you fight with a sword, but I’ve been fighting too, since the day they took fathers head.”

Sansa stepped close to him, too his face in her hands. “I’m tired too,”

  
She kissed his cheek and let her hands fall. “But I’m not giving up, not after everything that has happened to our family. To me. I can’t walk away now. I need to see this to the end.”

  
“Sansa, please--” Jon pleaded. Took a breath. “We can go somewhere no one knows us. It won’t matter who I am or who you are. We can start over, make a life for ourselves, just the two of us and whatever babies we have.”

  
He smiled and put a hand on her flat belly. She smiled.

  
“I am my father's daughter, Jon. I have a duty to Robb’s memory and to the North.” she stepped away. “I love you, I want you to fight with me but I won’t make you. I'll do it myself if I have to and that's ok. You don't owe me anything,”

She wasn’t disappointed, not really. She understood Jon perfectly. She had reached a point when she was with Joffrey, after Robb had died, where she had completely given up.

Had bitterly resigned herself to a life trapped with Tyrion, to be used by the Lannister’s to get Winterfell. If that day had come, the day where Tyrion finally took his right to her body as a husband and she found herself with his child. Sansa told herself, that was the day she would make good on throwing herself out a window. She would not betray her family that way. It would be her last defiance against House Lannister.

  
There was a knock on the door and Brienne announced she had brought Sansa her bath and a change of clothes. For now, Jon and Sansa’s conversation was paused.


End file.
